Requiem
by Seinakyou
Summary: In theory, 64 RoFV oneshots \\#56. Ring: "Stella is sure that every time she's in trouble, it's her angel that saves her. It's not an angel, but it's close enough for her."\\ Inspired by the '64damn prompts' Community on LiveJournal.
1. 46

**Title:** 46  
**Author/Artist: **Seinakyou  
**Character/Pairing:** Akabara Strauss and OC (non pairing)  
**Fandom: **Record of a Fallen Vampire  
**Theme: **#17: Missing Time  
**Warnings:** Spoilers up until chapter 43, blood

* * *

46.

_- How could this have been the worst? You'd killed 45 before her, right?_

_- Of course I killed them all. You of all people should be able to attest to that._

_- …Bastard_

_- Do you really want to know why this was worse than all the others?_

_- Do I?_

_-Probably not._

_- Tell me anyways._

_He sighs, slowly and anguished_

_- She was only thirteen._

* * *

He stared at her.

That was all. There was nothing really to take in. (Wasn't she awfully young, though?)

"Mr. Vampire King." Her words were tense, scared, terrified.

"Black Swan." His weren't.

There were a few moments of awkward silence, the breeze caressing their hair, and some oblivious crickets chirping a few feet away.

She fidgeted, obviously not at ease. (Not that she should be [How old is she, anyways?])

"Um… so I guess you're my enemy?" She glanced up, eyes relatively empty. (And green, he notes, they're green.)

He laughed at this. It wasn't funny, but he laughed anyways.

(Later, the dhampires would whisper _evil king, laughing before he kills a child_ and _it's no wonder he must die_, but Bridget wouldn't say anything, sweet girl, because she's smarter than that. [Sometimes, he thinks she knows. {Others, he thinks she doesn't.}])

"Little one" he murmurs, eyes sad, "You are no threat to me."

Her eyes light up with indignance now. (It's kind of cute, and it reminds him of Stella. [Crap. Don't start thinking about that now. Concentrate.])

"Don't underestimate me just because I'm small!" she says primly, proudly, pouting. "I'm strong enough to put up a good fight!"

He cocks an eyebrow, and grins mournfully at this, staring quite noticeably at her hands, at the swirling tattoos that meant death and Stella to him (Concentrate!). "I imagine you would."

"But we shouldn't fight."

He's surprised, but seasoned enough to be able to net let it show. "Why?"

"Because I'll lose. I'm not strong enough to beat you. And if we fight, I'll die painfully. Also, I'll wound you, even if it's just a little. And then, Mr. Renka and Miss Bridget will try to fight you, but you'll still beat them, even if you're wounded."

He's pretty sure that he look mildly amused, because she can tell that it means that he's impressed (He's always liked logic). She grins widely, brightly (like Stella), and still manages to sound morose. "When people forget that you're there, they say a lot more than they know." (Bridget always was one to talk too much)

They lapse into another silence. (She looks like Stella, but not. [How _old_ is she?])

"How old are you?"

She sits down now, and starts picking at the grass. (She's being too mature, he thinks. She has to know what awaits her. She does, doesn't she? If she doesn't what does he say? Hello, nice to meet you, I have to kill you now? [Would she be mature then])

"I'm thirteen."

She glances up, (unconvincingly) unafraid. "I think," she starts conversationally, "I'm a bit young to die." She looks right at him now (StellaStellaStella) and grins, weakly, mournfully (Does she realise she's literally grinning in the face of death? [Probably]) "But I don't really get to choose, do I?" She continues now, tracing a pattern (Letters?) into the dirt. "Even if you don't kill me (She knows), I wont live very long. I probably won't graduate high school." She keeps talking, and she must notice the shaking of her voice, because it's _her voice_, but she keeps talking anyways. "I was going to be a doctor, a lawyer, a teacher. I don't what I wanted to be." She laughs, a little caustically, a little desperately. "I thought I had time."

It's quiet again, and it takes about 10 minutes (feels awfully long, considering his lifespan) for her to finish. "I don't, do I?"

He has no reply to this.

She keeps talking. "The dhampires are really nice to me you know, but the lady, Miss Bridget?" She pauses, and starts to traces the pattern embellished on her hand. (Would that, like a regular tattoo, hurt as the ink was forced into your skin? [Is it ink?]) . "She looks at me really sadly sometimes." She smiles benevolently at the grass, and he wonders exactly how long the Black Swan has possessed her (Too long). She keeps talking, as if those words broke the dam of her thoughts.

"I suppose I'd smile sadly at this too. When I was little--" She frowns slightly and seems a bit disturbed. "I guess that was just a few months ago, actually. Anyways, I always dreamed of being the heroine in something, being special, being something. I got my wish, I suppose." A pause "It's different than I thought it'd be."

She talks a lot, he thinks, but he doesn't care, because he's probably the last person she'll ever talk to. (She's really too young for this. [Damn you, Saberhagen.])

"I've never been in love before either."

He looks up (when did he look down?), but she's still sitting right there, talking more to herself than him. (Stella did that a lot, too)

"I've never fallen in love, not like my parents and not like in the movies, never been happy just to be around someone.." She trails off, uncertain of where she's going with this,

"I've never been kissed, either."

She's not that strong, and not strong enough for this bravado, but she's trying anyways.

"I've never been kissed." She repeats numbly, bringing her fingers up to her lips. "Huh. That's kind of sad."

She looks up at the sky, and it's definitely still dark. But it's almost turning lighter, and she notices.

"You know, Miss Bridget said that I have until dawn to kill you. Then she'll come get me, and we'll have a rematch."

All three of them know what she means.

She smiles beatifically at him, and her watch is ticking, tick, tick, ticking away her seconds, her minutes of remaining life.

(He wishes he could let her live. But if he doesn't kill her tonight, he'll let her kill him. [That won't do. Couldn't he just wait 5 years?(…Coward)])

"Will you come watch the stars with me, Mr. Vampire King?"

He doesn't really say anything, but he walks over anyways.

"Let's ceasefire for a little while. You're holding all of the cards, after all." She's unnaturally calm.

He lies down beside her and watches the stars (What does he have to loose?).

He looks at the moon a lot (It's full tonight).

How long does he spend there? He doesn't know, but there is power in time, and it will pass regardless of what's happening. (Couldn't it have stopped when he was happy?)

_Tick Tick Tick_

There is power in time, power in watching it pass, power in knowing it is beyond any control.

_Tick Tick Tick  
_

But all too often he feels powerless when he thinks of time. (He can't change the past, he thinks, but maybe he can change the future? [Maybe not]).

_Tick Tick Tick_

The sky is starting to turn purple now.

She exhales slowly, and he knows that she feels it too (He's not sure what they feel, but it's unpleasant and bitter and tastes like failure).

"I don't really want to die."

And she says this so bravely, but the tears are falling now, and she's shaking (Time is power. Time controls everyone).

"I'm scared." (He hears fear, sadness, hopelessness; but her words taste like pain)

(He'll kill her, because he needs more time, but is quickly running out.)

_Tick Tick Tick_

(_He speaketh not; and yet there lies_. _A conversation in his eyes.)_

"You have every right to be."

_Tick. Tick._

He'll open his arms, and he'll know that it's her, this child (death child, dead child) without a name (it's easier when he doesn't know their name), but maybe he'll be able to look at her hair and think _Stella_. She'll latch onto him, and can pretend for a short while that this isn't the last human contact that she'll ever have, can pretend that this is someone else (Her true love? [He doesn't exist]).

They're both pretending, losing themselves in a pretty fantasy, because fantasy is the only refuge for Evil Kings and Crusaders of Justice.

Pretending is easier.

("She's always staring off into the distance."

"Why does our savior have to be a little girl?"

"I hope she dies soon, so that we have a chance at salvation.")

("Strauss! How could you leave us all behind!"

"Why are you doing this!"

"I hate you!")

They are unloved by all. (They, in a twisted sort of way, love each other. After all, neither can live without the other)

(The air smells like death.)

She cries into his shirt, and her tears hit the grass below, and with everything she is, she is just a little girl. Her cries are still echoing in his ears, even as they fade into sobs into sniffles into silence. (They won't go away for a long time {or ever, you know})

His hand rests awkwardly on her head (He's never been good at this), but this makes her cry more. The sky is growing lighter now. They're both running out of time. (Time. Time. They've both ran straight out of time)

(I can grant any wish.)

He holds her tight and buries his face in her hair (_StellaStellaStella_), and then kisses her.

(Softly, Gently)

He hopes it's nice. (Stella always told him he was good at kissing)

He's pretty sure she'd be enjoying it a lot more if his hand wasn't embedded in his chest.

The kiss breaks after about a minute (a painfully blissful minute), and she stares down at his hand (the one in her chest) rather indifferently.

"Ah." She grins somehow. (She smiles a lot. [Stupid girl. {…Though he's happy someone smiles at him}]) "That wasn't nice." She coughs, and blood is pouring out of her wound (first time, present tense, singular), and spraying out of her mouth.

He thinks, she must be on painkillers, because he's immortal, and damn does that hurt. (And he never tried talking.)

"Then again, it was. Sort of." Her eyes are clouding a bit, and her words are slurring together, but she's still talking. (Why not? She won't survive anyways.)

"I'm dying having kissed a boy, at least. Miss Stella—" he stiffens, involuntarily. It still hurts hearing her name. (It always will.) "—told me that you'd probably do something like this. She smiled a lot when I was talking to her. Said that if I smiled, he'd probably feel better." (Damn her for being right) She cocked her head to the side, and gave a raspy cough, eyes all knowing. "She said hi."

Her hands reached up towards the arm embedded in her chest, and she laid her land on his forearms (He has veins. Isn't that ironic?) "I'm still scared, I'm still sad. But thank you." She's fading fast, he can tell. He can't feel her heartbeat strongly anymore, and his hand is covered in her blood (and bone, and muscle, and just gore in general). She's crying again. (Damn) "I'm resigned to death. Always have been." Cough hack blood sprays on his face "It's just another adventure, another enemy to defeat." She says, but she's not very good at lying, even to herself. (Yes, she isn't really talking to him anymore.)

Her eyes are turning glassy, and her words are very hard to understand, and there is blood coming out of her mouth in a steady trickle now. (And less coming out of her wound, which seems kind of strange.) Her eyes are flickering, taking in still frames of the lightening sky.

(She's out of time. Or would it be more accurate to say someone stole her time?)

(Who stole it? He, or Saberhagen or even Stella?)

Her breathing is shaky, but steady, it seems as though she is forcing herself to stay calm. (Her missing time is out there somewhere. _Tick Tick Tick_). Steady, steady, just keep breathing (for a little while longer), in and out. If you want to live longer, just breathe.

She takes one rattling breath, and says quietly, calmly, frightened, tired, "The moon's blessing to you, Akabara-san." And what's left of that breath comes out in a hiss, a final show of defiance. (He thinks she says "Good night" or "Goodbye" or something like that. He's not sure.)

He had gotten used to her breathing beside him, and it had calmed him down, that time had given her a bit more.

He waited for a minute after that, just to make sure that just because he couldn't feel her breathing didn't mean that she wasn't. (Why does he care?[Stella])

A minute, waiting for a breath she would never again take. The water colour of the sky was blotting, the black turning to blue to purple to pink, and he was out of time. (So was she.)

She's dead now, very dead, and starting to cool and slowly, gently, he lays her on the ground, and he softly, gently removes him hand from her ribcage. She's (still) smiling, and he picks up her hands, stained red (Crimson? Poppy? Scarlet? 100 years later, he still can't find that exact shade of red. He mixes them all up, too) with her own blood (for the first time, none of his), and (softly, gently) lays them over her gaping wound, which isn't bleeding anymore, at least. It's dark still, so with her eyes closed, smiling, and no wound (highly) visible, she looks like she could be sleeping.

His magic is unpredictable sometimes, it is a power, an entity all unto itself, and he often forgets that it is more attuned to his emotions than he his. So when he feels it spark, and the warmth and tingling flows down his limbs, he isn't too surprised. It creeps into the earth, whispering, urging, egging on the plants to _grow_, _it's just a little before then anyways, so why not wake up early?_ They complain, but they move, slowly at first, the grass springing up and the flowers blooming, and it's suddenly not as sad to look at her (she's not surrounded by blood and dead grass now, no, now she's covered in flowers and lying on grass.

(It doesn't change the fact that he killed her, though)

His eyes are soft, tired; and he grants one last look before turning away from her. The breeze picks up, brisk in the morning air, and he wonders how much further he can fall. He pulls the collar of his coat over his face, and then, with the night breeze, he is gone.

It's dawn now, and when the dhampires find her, she's still peaceful, and still very much dead, and still smiling.

(Sometimes, if you walk past that park at night, you'll see a pale form lying in grass, and if you get close enough, she'll point out the constellations to you)

(He visits sometimes, and she always smiles a little wider when he does)

* * *

Many years later, he meets a little girl named Lotty.

She's a lot like her, so he takes her in.

(This won't atone for his sins.)

He still has her watch.

_Tick. Tick. Ti--_

It stopped counting the time she missed a long time ago.

* * *

**AN: I seem cursed to meddle in nearly forgotten fandoms... Oh well. I apologize for the OC.**

***Clarification* She had the Black Swan since she was 8, but was only contacted a few months before the story.  
**

**I'm not sure whether to keep going or not, so some feedback would give me an idea.  
**

**(Keep writing? For god's sake, stop? I'd like to know! Throw it all at me!)**

**~Hopeful~**

**Seina  
**


	2. Redux

**Title:** Redux  
**Author/Artist: **Seinakyou  
**Character/Pairing:** Akabara Strauss and Stella/Black Swan  
**Fandom: **Record of a Fallen Vampire  
**Theme: **#56: the beginning is the end is the beginning  
**Warnings:** It's sad. And there are probably spoilers, but who cares, since no one actually reads this fandom anyways unless they're finished. People don't really read this fandom at all.

* * *

If it's a pas de deux, it's probably the most beautifully tragic thing he's ever seen.

It started out simple, she was clumsy and he was graceful, yet he taught her how to dance well, how to dance beautifully. They were beautiful, what with the soul inside of her that escaped throughout their dance and afterwards; and with the beautiful precision of his moves, the gliding, the skating, the sharp movements and the slow strikes.

He was a much a better dancer than she, and she could not tolerate this. He outclassed her, but she vowed that she would eventually catch up, that they would dance on equal terms, or even better, she'd be a better dancer than he and then she'd show him, and that would be his reward for her humiliation. Yes, she thinks, while her soul cries in agony, I must get better, get stronger, more beautiful.

The next time they meet, he has not improved much, but then again, neither has she.

So of course, she is still outmatched, and though a tiny part of her hates all of this practice, all of this training, most of her loves the thrill of the chase, of the lifts and the leaps and the feeling she gets when she knows she caught that next skill, when she's better.

They continue; a beautiful step, a thrilling twist, they way her sleeve falls from her hand and the way his eyes flash silver in the cold moonlight as once again, the blue and the pink turns red and they have to start all over.

Start all over.

They have to begin again, and she'll just keep getting better and he'll keep trying not to because he has so much more fun when his partner is worthy, and because his time is starting to come and he needs this more than she does, much more than she ever will because that's just the way things work with them and he knows that sometimes it doesn't make sense, but it will all work out, it will, he's earnest as he speaks to her; earnest as she lies there, beginning to bleed out over the snow or the grass or whatever, and she knows he's right.

She knows eventually she'll win, and her soul feels like it's going to be rent apart with the sorrow because it's either her or him and he'll always choose him.

So she meets him again, finally, when she's stronger than him and they both know that even though it will end, it won't because for them, he thinks as her hand is stuck through his chest (eerie, he thinks, hasn't that happened before? (Yes, yes it has, and wasn't she so young?)), because he will die but it won't be over, because that time it will be final, and yet it won't be, don't you see, so why are you crying, Kayuki, don't be sad, because honestly you didn't just kill me, you just saved my life and her life so don't cry, please don't because I'll get another chance, a real one this time.

He'll start all over.

Start all over he will, they will, because for them, the beginning is the end is the beginning is the end is the…

Ah.

It's over.

There's no applause for them, no one to even register that it's over, it's done, and they're both tired and sore and full of sweat and tears and blood but wasn't that just the most _beautiful_ thing you've ever seen?

Well, yes, it was beautiful, so beautiful because it's over. Over. Over and done.

The beginning is the end is the beginning is the end is the beginning…

* * *

**AN: ****I'm back...? For anyone who cares, you know. See mini rant in story information for more detail :D I'm proud of this, but mostly because I managed to reference the last chapter in this one, stylistically and content wise. Actually, I was clearing out my files and suddenly though, wow, I'm a failure for not ever updating this, you know? ...Well, whether you do or not, here it is. Shorter, sweeter, a little happier and a little sadder. Huh. Is that possible? **See? See that there? I'm not altogether pleased with it as a whole, it kind of got derailed halfway through, so I had to bring it back at the end. But oh well. I got it done! Yay! And, um next reviewer gets to pick next topic? Yeah? So, review pretty please~?  



	3. Moonlight

**Title:** Moonlight  
**Author/Artist: **seinakyou  
**Character/Pairing:** Hinted at Strauss/Stella, Stella  
**Fandom: **Record of a Fallen Vampire  
**Theme: **#45. Rings  
**Warnings:** Sadness, fluff, I just made up Stella's back story

* * *

Stella's town burns before her eyes when she's very young. She remembers only fragments by this point, but there was a strong hand around her wrist, pulling her through wreckage and demanding that she hurry up, but little Stella is afraid and doesn't know what he's talking about. He drops her hands and some point, and she sits next to him for a few minutes before the wooden beam on top of him bursts into flame too, and she wants to touch but remembers mother's warning, _don't touch the fire because it's pretty but it hurts you_. So she doesn't reach out, she doesn't try to touch it, she just scrabbles over a corpse and a pretty dress that looks like something you'd wear for a wedding and into the open village.

It's hazy from there, but all she can remember is how unbelievably _pretty_ the vampires are in the moonlight, and she doesn't understand it but she thinks they're angels, angels who have come to save them all.

…

She's taken in by another family, and they're very nice. Very nice, but very wary, wary of the red haired child who is the only one who survived the brutal slaughter of her town, the one who's said to have walked up to their great general and tugged on the bottom of his cloak and lived.

What a strange child, cursed child, child of great omens for good and evil.

…

This village is wiped out, too, but not by attacks this time, rather by a flood that surges up from the sea and sweeps over everything, drowning the carrots and the zucchini and the babies and their parents and everyone else, everyone but little Stella who is found on a cot, floating along lazily while holding a doll that isn't actually one.

Everyone asks her why, how she survived, but she looks down at the blue child in her arms and smiles with her secret because the moon saved her, the moon it was, she swears, but she can't remember where she got the hair ties now at the end of her pigtails.

…

She's about seven by this point, because she knows that every summer passes and the day snow first falls is the day she ages a little, and apparently someone else knows it because every year, no matter where she is, she gets a little gift: some candies, a silver rose, a kitten. But she never figures out who sends them, who is following her.

Her new parents are worried by this too, say someone is targeting her, but that just makes her feel special and when she tells them this, they get shifty eyed and sullen and make the sign of the witch and mutter 'demon child, child of calamity' but she doesn't even know what this means.

…

This time, it's just her house. It was (accidentally) set fire to by the local church, who swore that Stella was unnatural and wicked and quite supernatural and that she needed to die to save her soul. The moon leered down at them as they prayed for her liberation, but also for the strength to kill her two innocent parents who must've been under her spell.

It doesn't make sense, again, but Stella isn't very bright and only knows that her saviour will come again, as he always does, her guardian angel that makes sure she's always safe and his hair is the same colour as hers in this light, and she escapes unharmed and is spirited off by the man with his face covered to another village, another place, another life and suddenly Stella realizes that he must be _her very own_ guardian angel, hers alone because he always saves her.

…

By the time she turns ten, she realizes that not everything is good and happy, but that's okay because everyone has a guardian angel to save them and if they're not saved, it's because they're just going somewhere better on the wings of their protector, and this carries her through the days in the fields where the kids throw stones at her and call her names.

…

Bandits, this time. Stella wishes she could keep track of all the ways her towns have died, but she can't write and no one is willing to teach the devil anything. They're very big men, in shiny bright armour reflecting in the moonlight and swords that have killed the people on either side of her, who tried to protect her even though they'd been insulting her previously, and that makes her smile. Not that they're dead, but that they really were good people. She looks up with big sleepy eyes at the leader and gives him a gap toothed smile, and he grins in a very disturbing way and grabs her wrist and lifts her up. He stares into her eyes and she yawns and he breaths on her, and it smells like pork and smoke and tobacco, and he declares that this little girl was going to be their pet once the men had all finished, but he never finishes because a blur of silver flashes in front of her eyes and the man's grip loosens gently, but that's probably because his hand isn't attached to his arm anymore.

Stella grins when he howls and the silver blur snarls, because this is her angel, so she sits back and laughs as his head comes off and the others try, and fail to flee.

He doesn't take her with him this time, but that's good because when a merchant passes by, she's laughing so hard she's crying so he just assumes that she only barely survived, and never notices how she's untouched by anything but tears.

…

By the time she's twelve, she's a maid in a wealthy man's household. It's certainly an odd job, but mostly because she's the only one who laughs anymore, besides their master, but she can't understand why they wouldn't laugh, considering the fact that they went to entertain him nightly and they had to be bright and happy to make him bright and happy, but they always look tired and more often than not, a new one is sent away and another arrives.

He tries to get her to entertain him, but she always smiles sweetly and says that she's not funny, and he always laughs and walks away leaving her puzzled.

…

She figures out what entertain actually means one night when he presses her up against a window, the moon at her back, smelling like whiskey and sweat, and his lips finds a place on hers and she thinks that this isn't very entertaining, and starts to cry.

This doesn't stop him, and a hand reaches up her leg to her upper thigh, and she squirms and tries to yelp but no sound comes out.

Her angel doesn't take very long, but this time he doesn't do anything but show up and the man falls to the floor in respect or fear or praise of the heavens as he stammers out that he'll never try anything on her again and she doesn't dare look at the angel's face, because that would probably kill her.

She switches jobs the very next month, the same time her master is taken away on charges of something that didn't make sense to her.

…

When she's fourteen, she's figured out what desire is, but only knows what it feels like to have it directed on you. She is unfailingly sweet and kind to everyone, because they all deserve a chance, and this makes some turn their heads or keep their gaze longer than they really should. But that doesn't matter, because they don't hold a candle to her angel, her protector, who she's figured out must be her one true love.

In her youth, Stella thinks maybe he's god.

…

She was proposed to once, but her parents declined because they had nothing to give as a dowry. She was very puzzled – what is marriage, anyways? – but her parents decided that she didn't need to know anything and simply sent her to make dinner for them, because they both couldn't see, though she wasn't sure.

That night, her angel came in through the window, slipping in against the streams of light teasing her curtains and she pretends to be asleep when he finally speaks, sitting next to her on her bed and muttering that she'll always be special to him, beyond her knowledge and she falls in love with the voice and the fingertips that brush her hair out of her face and the lips that press onto her forehead. He's gone as quickly as he came.

…

She tries to learn to read when she's sixteen, by a poster stuck up on a tree in the middle of town. However, as much as she tries, she can't find meaning in the exquisite brush strokes and careful handwriting and the sloping lines that look like trees and the moon and animals, so beautiful that she fears they won't stay on the page, but rather jump into the sky and dance away on the breeze.

She asks a man to tell her what it says, and he gives her a kind smile and says that it advertises a sale at a vegetable shop a few streets down. She beams at him and he blushes but she pays him no mind and rushes down the street to the market without noticing the storm brewing.

…

She gets there just in time to be closed in when the shop is struck by lightning, and she is reminded of the taunts of old directed at her, 'child of misfortune' and almost cries to think that it's true, but she tries very nobly to get all the people out. There are too many, and the cabbages and cucumbers and tomatoes are rolling of the ground as the wood around them crackles and burns and spits, so she herds out the children in her arms, stepping very carefully around them, and then directs the elderly out and then the women and then the shopkeeper, who was knocked unconscious by a watermelon falling no his head, but finds herself closed in with no more exits and absentmindedly slips on an eggplant and falls, not onto the ground but into someone's strong arms, someone who shines even as she loses consciousness, with eyes as deep as the sea and clear as a cold winter's night.

Beautiful, she thinks hazily before drifting off into the smell of smoke or ice and mint.

…

She decides to help out at a hospital once she turns eighteen, once she knows that her mother isn't actually weak or feeble, just hiding from the world that she's strong and amazing and working to fight the people who can't honestly be trying to help their village because it's tiny and out of the way and not even a part of their country.

So she sneaks into their army camp to plant a savage beast in their Grand General's tent and meets a beautiful, wonderful, silver-haired man with pretty eyes and kind manners and great strength, who smiles kindly at her and she can feel herself blushing after he helps her up, because he looks like the moonlight and has pretty eyes.

…

He's odd, he doesn't understand jokes, and he's extremely powerful but not scary at all, not to her, not the people he's trying to help, he's perfect in every way and she feels like he's very lonely.

So she blesses him, because no one really says them for powerful people, and then leaves him with a confused and hopeful look on his face, and says he shouldn't become too powerful because he's too kind and it will only end up hurting him.

She comes back the next day with another rather aggressive creature and asks the man who was skipping his work yesterday and who saved her and appeared in her dreams where the Grand General's tent was, only to be sheepishly informed that he was the Grand General.

She doesn't feel betrayed, just sad, because now she can't prank him and he'll be sad already, and now she needs to scold him for being so outrageous.. But he does have a very pretty name. Akabara Strauss. It's absolutely perfect.

"Miss… what is your name?" he asks her, because she thinks he honestly doesn't recognize her because last he saw, she was in a village halfway across the country. But that okay, she decides, because it's time for her to save him; save him from himself.

"Me? I'm…"

* * *

**AN: No, I didn't use the actual lines from the manga at the very end... not at all... holy, this thing is long! Actually, I started writing, and it kind of turned into this, whatever it is. I wanted to have him give her a ring, but I liked ending it here, so it has very little connection to the prompt, but it's a prompt after all.**

**Yay! I wrote Stella~! Yeah, so tell me what you think, pretty please? I update this for you, my readers, so please tell what to do!**

**Or something.**

**~Seina  
**


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